Sometimes I Wish I Could Just Sale Away
When my husband lost his job a little over a year ago, my first response was denial. Well, my first response was a man his age shouldn’t have to still be working, but that’s an entirely different story! Anyway, I knew with the job market, he was going to have one heck of a time finding anything. I hate it when I’m right.
For the first few months I behaved as though nothing had changed. It was like my brain couldn’t do the math. I still went out to lunch with friends, ordered shoes off the Internet, even entertained the idea of taking a vacation and actually going somewhere.
Just as it took me a while to actually grasp that I needed to do something pretty remarkable for extra income, it also took me quite a bit of contemplation to figure out exactly what I was willing and/or able to do. I considered several options and finally settled on becoming a stylist for a company called Stella & Dot. It just made perfect sense. I love jewelry, they sell jewelry, it’s a match made in heaven – almost. My problem at the moment is remembering that I’m supposed to sell the jewelry not just amass a collection that would put any self-respecting shopaholic to shame.
It seems I am well versed in the shopping portion of this position. I do that with great abandon. As the woman who is mentoring me mentioned, I have to have samples in order to allow women at the trunk shows to get a hands on experience. I was amazed to find that there are women (unlike me) who actually need to try something on before they buy it. I think they are called sensible. I know that would not be the first adjective that pops into anyone’s head when they are describing me.
I was never all that great at math, so it’s no surprise that when I’m offered a substantial discount to purchase my samples, I find it necessary to spend twice as much as I normally would to obtain them. Yes, this does give me lots and lots (and even more lots) of beautiful jewelry (and scarves, and totes, and wallets) to display when I have trunk shows. It also means this endeavor that is supposed to be bringing me vast amounts of extra income is for the moment creating what might be termed a cash “flew” issue.
Okay, so at this point I’m still optimistic. I’ve done my homework. I’ve been assured that not only will my circle of friends enthusiastically line up to host trunk shows, but their friends, and their friend’s friends, and perhaps even people they don’t know or like will beat a path to my door.
There will be co-workers, cousins, ex-in-laws, former cellmates, perhaps even trained circus animals – all ready, willing and able to help me through this rough spot. Because, after all, I’m doing something honorable. I’m not asking for a hand out, I’m … I’m … well, I’m …
Let me just put it this way. I find it impossible to ask. Yes, yes, I have the best of intentions, but then when I’m sitting there (or standing there, or even thinking about sitting and/or standing anywhere) getting ready to ask someone to have a trunk show, I get (and I can hardly believe this myself) tongue tied, perhaps even worse, embarrassed.
I find it very similar to liking a boy (this analogy would have happened a LONG time ago) and never telling him but always hoping he would ask me out. It’s like being the girl so popular she’s never home alone on a Saturday night. I could go on, but I’m sure by now you hope I won’t.
Now before you think I’m a total flake, I did ask a few people and a couple actually said yes. But there were several who either said no or didn’t say anything at all. And, therein lies the rub. I have discovered that while I love pretty things, and I truly believe in the pretty things I’ve chosen to try to sell – I really don’t enjoy the sales process. I want people to just “get” it. I want them to know that if I value something it has, how can I say it? Actual worth. I don’t want to have to convince anyone, or cajole or even hint.
So I suppose this explains why I am having such a difficult time typing this story. No, it’s not because I’m sad or even a tad mortified, it’s because I have so much jewelry on I can’t see (or even feel) my fingers.
And speaking of friends of friends, does anyone happen to know how to get hold of Mr. T? I could use a customer like him. (Heck, you can’t blame a girl for trying!)
August, 2013
